


Doubt.

by Alexander_Slamilton



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, M/M, Platonic Lams, angsty and fluffy, au where John isn't dead, au where being gay isn't against the law, au where nobody dies and everyone is happy, historical fic, probably full of inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: ' “I am sure you can give as good as you get, my Alexander,” John smiled, “you just need to learn of his weaknesses.”“Weaknesses? I am unaware that Jefferson has any weaknesses,” Alex groaned, bemoaning the day he first met Thomas Jefferson.“Every man has a weakness Alexander,” John said, folding his hands under chin, grinning. 'Alexander really needs to get his debt plan through.





	

 

The walls of the office closed in on him, squeezing him like a hand round his neck, stopping his breath before it reached his lungs. His head spun due to the lack of oxygen, and the only damn thing he could focus on was Jefferson’s thigh pressed up against his own. He tapped his fingers against the brushed wood of the table, Washington sighed and pressed his fingers in to his temples; Alexander glanced up and gave his president an apologetic look. Knox shook his head; he shrugged at Hamilton, as Jefferson coughed pointedly. Hamilton smirked and turned back to the report they were all supposed to be reading through. His debt plan was at the forefront of his mind, all he could focus on were the numbers and the report was slipping through his head like smoke through his fingers. 

 

“Gentlemen, I think a break would do us all good,” Washington said, standing and brushing off his black breeches. “We shall take the rest of the day, think wisely on the conundrum and reconvene tomorrow.” 

 

“I agree,” Knox nodded, rising to his feet hurriedly and slipping from the room before anymore could be said. 

 

“Seconded,” Jefferson rose too, nodding at Washington and turning to Hamilton, “Mr Hamilton, I would take this opportunity to discuss your debt plan. If you are in agreement?” 

 

Washington nodded and inclined his head at the two other men, who stood, stock still; the president smiled slightly and left the room, heeled shoes echoing on the wood. Jefferson and Hamilton now faced an unexpected development, they were seldom alone in a room together with nothing particular to discuss. They stood, staring a each other, letting the heat and tension in the room wash over them in uncomfortable waves. 

 

“Ah, yes, yes, that would be fine,” Alexander said, doubt flooding his mind, clouding the details of the plan that he’d memorised. 

 

“If we could meet in my office in five minutes?” Jefferson raised an eyebrow.

 

“Er, yes. I’ll be there,” Alexander gave a strained smile. 

 

When Jefferson had left, Alexander put his head face first down the on the table, breathing in the parchment and woodsmoke left in the room. The suffocating Philadelphia summer pressed in on him; he could feel sweat trickling down his forehead and down his back and it was not just because of the heat. For the first time in his life, Alexander Hamilton felt doubt. The crushing weight fell over him, pressing on his lungs, already straining under the heat; dizziness threatened his balance on the chair. He gripped the edge of the table and breathed in and shook his head slightly, before he rose and walked in the general direction of Jefferson’s office. 

 

The hallway was wide, though it didn’t feel wide enough, Alex’s shirt clung to his back; his coat and waistcoat only adding to the discomfort. His shoes echoed on the uncarpeted floor, he kept his gaze on them, willing his legs to work properly. The buckle on his left shoe had come undone, he knelt to fix it, slipping the leather through the notch and strapping it tight; he took a moment to breath and try to forget the heat. 

 

“Mr Hamilton?” Jefferson’s head poked out from around his door, one eyebrow raised, “whatever are you doing on the floor?”

 

“My shoe came undone, if it please you to know, should we begin?” Hamilton straightened and composed himself, tucking his hand in between the buttons on his waistcoat. 

 

“I was concerned the heat had driven you to madness,” Jefferson said, moving into his office and gesturing for Alex to sit. “It has certainly done me no favours, though it does get so hot in France. I suppose being from the Indies does do One some favours.” It was bait; Alexander knew it, though he still rose to it.

 

“Mayhap’s it does, I would hazard that you are no stranger to working in the heat, being a _simple_ farmer as yourself,” Alexander settled back in the chair, watching Jefferson’s face contort in fury before he carefully schooled his features under control once more. 

 

“I assure you, sir, running a plantation such as mine is no _simple_ task, not at all,” Jefferson’s southern accent crept in to his words, elongating them, making them almost sickly sweet. “Now, your debt plan.”

 

“Aye, my debt plan. No doubt you have found plenty of things that are wrong in it,” Alexander sighed, leaning over Jefferson’s desk, staring at the parchment he’d given to the other man. It was almost unrecognisable, covered in scribbles and crossings out, he could not find where his writing was and where Jefferson’s began. “My God, what on Earth have you done to it?”

 

“I have… a couple of suggestions,” Jefferson started, breathing deeply and finally sitting on the chair opposite Alex. He flicked the ridiculously long tails of his coat, and settled in, crossing one leg over the other, he reached out and took his quill. “You see here, page two, section three, subsection VII, that there…” and so it went, Jefferson spoke; Hamilton yelled for what seemed like hours, before Jefferson looked at the clock. “Alas, our day is almost up, unless…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“We discuss it further over dinner?” Jefferson said, looking at Hamilton, challenging him to say yes. 

 

“I think that would be agreeable,” Hamilton ground out, though it physically pained him, he would not back down from a challenge. 

 

“I should invite Madison to join us, he so longs to talk the plan through with you, though he says you have been avoiding his letters?” Jefferson leant back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head. 

 

“I have been doing nothing of the sort, perhaps, Madison is sending his letters to my old office?”

 

“Ah, that may be it,” Jefferson smirked and nodded, “shall I inform him that he is welcome to join us?”

 

“Why not, he may have some insight we don’t,” Alexander shrugged, he would be outnumbered but when had he ever let that stop him. Though he had been less scared, and more confident, when taking redoubt ten with only bayonets; he decided to write John, ask his erstwhile friend for advice.

 

“We should meet in two weeks time, that will give me enough time to prepare some proper feedback,” Jefferson opened his diary, “how does the eighteenth sound to you?”

 

“Wonderful,” Hamilton said, his voice lacking any enthusiasm whatsoever.

 

He left the building quickly, only stopping briefly in his office to collect his quill and papers. He shut and locked the door behind him, before almost running down the seemingly endless corridors. Fresh air hit him like a brick wall, though it was still stiflingly hot. The that lined the streets were in full colour, green leaves whispered in the wind. 

 

“Alexander!” 

 

“John? I thought you wouldn't be back from Charleston until next month,” Alex turned on the steps, seeing his friend calmed some of the pressure that had built in his chest. 

 

“Yeah, I came back early, Father didn’t need as much help as I’d thought,” John said, catching up with Alex and giving him a bone crushing hug. “It’s good to see you, my friend.” 

 

“And you. Would you join me for dinner tonight? I need your advice,” Alexander said, gesturing in the direction of his home.

 

“Why not, it’s not like I’ve anything to do,” John shrugged and fell in to step beside Alex. “So, how’s Eliza?” 

 

Alex stiffened, he’d forgotten to tell John that it hadn’t worked. Eliza had made it known to him that she’d received other offers for her hand; it had been years since he’d thought about her. The sting had gone out of the pain he felt when he did think about his ex-would-be-wife; now it was more of a deep seated ache, low in his belly. 

 

“It didn't work, she received a better offer. Well, I suppose, her father did. They called the marriage off, by the time I felt I could write about it, I was overcome with work. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you,” Alexander smiled ruefully. 

 

“Ah. Was it before or after I left for France?” John touched Alex on the back.

 

“Just before I left Washington’s staff, actually,” Alex sighed and kept his gaze on the trees, “I didn't want to talk about it, to anyone.” 

 

“I see. So there’s no handsome woman in your life?” John grinned.

 

“Nay. I’ve no one.”

 

“I’m sorry I’ve left you alone so long,” John turned serious, “I would not have delayed so long in coming back to the North if I’d known you were lonely, my friend.” 

 

“I know, that’s why I did not tell you. You deserved the position you were offered in France,” Alexander looked at his old friend. John was just as he’d always been, though now he limped on his left side, an all too stark reminder of what was nearly lost. 

 

“Aye, but, however great Lafayette’s estate was, I still missed my best friend,” John slung his arm around Alexander’s shoulders. 

 

“Yes, well, err. Here we are,” Alex grinned back, though it lacked some of the shine. 

 

“Alexander, I hope you aren’t letting government work soil your humour,” John’s face turned serious again, though his eye glittered with barely suppressed mirth. 

 

“No, sir, never,” Alex intoned, this time he smiled true and unlocked the door of his house. 

 

Alexander’s house stood four storeys tall, a small window poked out of the roof, which just reached the tops of the trees. The windows were framed in white, the door was painted black and the steps that led up to it were tiled in black and white. He gestured for John to walk in; following his friend, Alexander took off his coat and hung it on the pegs. 

 

“Have you no servants?” John said, copying Alex. 

 

“I have someone in to clean and wash, twice a week, though since I am on my own, I’ve felt no need to have full time help,” Alexander shrugged. 

 

“Alexander, I-“

 

“Don’t worry about me, most days I’m in my office till late; the Washington’s have me over for supper enough times a week so as I hardly notice I’m on my own,” Alexander smiled as he moved through the house to the sitting room. “How long do you plan to be in the city?”

 

“As long as I can find work, I suppose,” John gestured vaguely with his hands. 

 

“I’m sure there’ll always be work in the city for a man such as yourself,” Alexander nodded. 

 

“Actually, I was in town today to see Washington, I was going to ask if there was anything I could do in the cabinet,” John said.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Aye, he said he’d get back to me later this week. So, I guess, I’m… ah… stuck here,” John grinned conspiratorially. 

 

“Yes, fine, you can stay here. Though I do not want to walk in to my house and find your dirty stockings spread all over the place,” Alexander groaned slightly.

 

“That was one time!” John gasped.

 

“I found a three day old stocking in my bed, Laurens.”

 

“We were fighting a war, Hamilton.”

 

“It was during a stalemate.”

 

“Still, I was being sent out on runs left, right, and centre.”

 

“A three day old stocking in my bed,” Alex punctuated, laughing at John’s outraged face. 

 

“Fine, but what about that time you were out courting late and forgot the damn password to camp, who had to come a rescue your sorry ass?” John leant back in his chair, “or that time you convinced everyone that ghosts were real, and you could talk to them and Meade was so damn scared he wouldn’t sleep until you told him it was a lie? Or, that time you fell in a river and everyone thought you were dead, then you just turned back up to camp? Or-“

 

“Fine! Fine, I get it, I am just as much of a mess as you are. But, don’t forget the time you got your own horse shot out from under you, or when you kept hitting your head on the stairs at Valley Forge,” Alexander was full on belly laughing now, his face slowly reddening with mirth. 

 

“Aye, they put the goddamn ceilings too low, besides, it wasn’t just me who hit their head on that beam. Lafayette did as well, so did The General, you didn’t because you’re so short,” John smirked. 

 

“To think, I was just pondering how much I’ve missed you, I’m not so sure now.” Alexander sniffed and turned away from John.

 

“Of course you’ve missed me, how could you not miss this wondrous presence in your life?” John gestured to himself. 

 

“Careful, Laurens, that could be taken as hubris,” Alexander jested. 

 

“Aye it could, but we all know that I deserve such praise, I fought for this country.”

 

“We both did,” Alex smiled. 

 

“Those were the days,” John said. 

 

“I suppose, though I don’t mind not being shot at anymore,” Alex chuckled slightly.

 

“Ah yes, there’s that,” John nodded. “Now tell me about the cabinet, if I am to work on it, I suppose I need to know a little more about it.”

“There’s little to tell. You know Henry Knox, he’s secretary for war; then there’s Edmund Randolph, he was one of Washington’s aides before we were; then there’s Thomas Jefferson.” 

 

“What’s wrong with Jefferson?” John said, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“He’s an ass,” Alexander stated, scrubbing his eyes, “that man is the reason my debt plan may fail.” 

 

“I see,” said John. “What’re you going to do about him?”

 

“There’s nothing much I can do, he hates me, everything that comes out of my mouth he shoots down.”

 

“I am sure you can give as good as you get, my Alexander,” John smiled, “you just need to learn of his weaknesses.”

 

“Weaknesses? I am unaware that Jefferson _has_ any weaknesses,” Alex groaned, bemoaning the day he first met Thomas Jefferson.

 

“Every man has a weakness Alexander,” John said, folding his hands under chin, grinning.

 

“What do you suggest, then?” Alex scoffed, but he leant forward in his chair anyway. 

 

“All we need to do is find what Jefferson’s is, and then, exploit it,” John sat forward as well, so their faces were close together. “You need to befriend him. Once he trusts you, he’ll be more likely to how a weakness.”

 

“He will never trust me,” Alex sighed. “It won’t work.”

 

“Yes, it will, because I’ll be helping you.” John put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. 

 

“Say, I go along with this, say I become his friend and find out if he has a weakness or not, how do we then exploit said weakness?”

 

“By whatever means that are appropriate for the weakness he has,” John said it as though it were obvious. 

 

“I don’t want to kill him, I just want to… I don’t think his politics are good for the country.”

 

“I know you’re no murderer Alex, I’m not saying we kill the man, just ruin his political standing,” John nodded. 

 

“Right. I think it’s late enough for supper, come on, let’s see if I’ve any food.” 

 

***

 

“Good evening, Mr Jefferson,” Alexander said, stepping into Jefferson’ town house. 

 

“You may call me Thomas, if you wish, sir,” Jefferson inclined his head, motioning Alexander inside. 

 

“My thanks, as you may call me Alexander,” Alex said, nodding to James Madison “Mr Madison, a pleasure to see you again.”

 

Madison nodded back, a tight smile stretched across his face, the atmosphere in the dining room was stiff, tension flitted about in the air as the three men sipped at their wine and avoided looking in the others’ direction. Alexander shifted in his seat, opposite Jefferson, he felt like the two other men were about to interrogate him; John’s words echoed about in his head. _Give Jefferson some leeway with the debt plan, make him think he’s won._ Alex almost shook his head, he couldn't believe he had allowed John to talk him into giving Jefferson some quarter. 

 

“Shall we begin?” Jefferson asked, looking at Alexander with that damn eyebrow raised again. 

 

“We should, if we do not wish to be sitting here until morning,” Alexander nodded. 

 

“Your phrasing, here implies that each state should assume an equal amount of debt, but in my mind, states such as New York and Connecticut should assume more debt than Virginia, after all it _was_ their war,” Jefferson pointed a finger to aline of scribbled text, it just so happened to be Alexander’s best piece of writing. 

 

“If the states assume the national debt _equally_ the union gets a new line of credit, a financial diuretic; how do you not understand? If we as a nation are aggressive and competitive the union will become stronger, though it seems you want to give it a sedative,” Alexander refused to shout, refused to let Jefferson know he’d gotten to him. 

 

“It would seem, that if the debt was assumed by the states that it would be _your_ seat of government that would benefit the most from that assumption,”Jefferson argued, splaying his hands on the table, gazing hotly at Alexander. 

 

“You know that is not true!” Alexander fumed, his voice raised; eyes flashing, he half rose from his seat to get closer to Jefferson.

 

“Oh, if the shoe fits wear it,” Jefferson taunted, wagging his finger, smirking all the while. 

 

“Yeah what ever, all you two do is sit there, useless as anything. I have an idea, why don’t you turn around and I’ll show you _where_ my shoes fits.”

 

“Alexander!” James barked, “now is not the time, honestly, is it impossible for the two of you to have a civil conversation?”

 

“It may be impossible for him,” Jefferson snorted.

 

“Thomas, please,” James sighed, pinching his nose and coughing in to a handkerchief. 

 

“Sorry, my apologies, Alexander,” Jefferson held out a hand. 

 

“Mine as well, Thomas,” Alexander took the proffered hand and smiled, though there was little warmth in it. 

 

“Now, let’s get down to business. I know you won’t compromise on the debt plan, though, there may be another area in which I can persuade you to,” Jefferson offered. 

 

“Oh?” Alexander could not think of a single area where he would compromise with Jefferson.

 

“The capital,” Jefferson stated. 

 

“What about it?” Alexander questioned, perplexed, he could not think what Jefferson would ask of him.

 

“I would like to work a little closer to home,” Jefferson said, smirk firmly planted on his face; Alexander wished in that moment to do no more than wipe it off. 

 

“You propose the Potomac?” Alex guessed, incredulous at the man’s cheek. 

 

“I do indeed,” Jefferson bargained, smirk growing wider when he caught Alex’s reaction. 

 

“So that’s what this is? This is why you lured me here, to get me to vote for the capital to be put on the Potomac?” Alexander was shaking with anger, he could not believe he’d been duped by a fancy dinner invitation. 

 

“No, I asked you here so we could talk about your debt plan, the capital is just on the table if you wish the plan to pass through,” Jefferson smiled as he drank a sip of wine. 

 

“Of course it is,” Alexander nodded. “Alright, I’ll support the capital being placed in the Potomac, if you endorse my debt plan.”

 

“Consider it a deal, now please, this dinner did not come easily.” Jefferson said, pointing to the veritable feast that was laid out in front of them. 

 

They ate in silence, the atmosphere in the room had shifted from tense and uncomfortable to somewhere in the middle of that and relative ease. Alexander no longer felt the heated gaze of Jefferson and Madison, instead he found himself relaxing somewhat in to the rhythm of the room. He sat further back in his chair, allowing himself to becoming slightly less guarded.

 

When he got home, John was still up, tinkering on the piano. He could hear the sound of music creeping through from the hallway, he shed his coat and pattered in to the living room, knowing that John was too shy to keep playing in front of him. The candles and gas lamps were lit, giving the room an orange glow, John was silhouetted against the black piano. His hands were flying over the keys with what seemed like relative ease. 

 

“You know, you are quite good at that,” he said, sitting down next to John on the piano bench. “What were you playing? I’ve never head it before.”

 

“Some kid in Salzburg composed it, he’s hailed to become the next Haydn. Sonata Number 11. he called it.” John shrugged and put his hands to the keys again. 

 

“This one I recognise, Haydn, is it not?” 

 

“Aye, my favourite. How was dinner?” John said, as he played.

 

“I almost regret allowing you to become better than me. Dinner was fine, it didn't end with us chucking food over each other or grievous bodily harm, so I count it as a success,” Alex shrugged, as he read the sheet music. “It says forte there, not mezzo forte.” 

 

“I’m glad you were able to have a civil meal. I know it says forte but I would not like to wake the whole street up, it is after twelve,” John rolled his eyes, “and, I was always better than you.”

 

“I would not stretch so far as to call it civil. It would be a privilege for them to be woken by a talent such as yours mon cher. You may be better at piano, but at least I do not sound like a dying racoon when I sing,” Alexander joked, poking John in the arm. 

 

“I’ll have you know, my voice praised in Paris!”

 

“Aye, by people who wanted some sweet, sweet American money,” Alexander laughed. 

 

John huffed, but didn't respond otherwise, he just continued playing, he didn't stop until Alex let out a huge yawn. 

 

“Time for bed, come on.” 

 

***

 

Alexander walked down the halls, he heard the click clack of his shoes on the wood floors, pushing him further and further towards his destination. He had reluctantly agreed to go to Jefferson’s office with John’s prompting, under the guise of apologising for his actions the night before. 

 

“Mr Jefferson? Thomas?” He knocked three times on the solid oak door. 

 

“Hamilton, what are you doing here?” Jefferson said, opening the door to reveal his office. 

 

“I’ve come to apologise for my words last night, they were unkind, and unwarranted. Would you allow me to host you for dinner next week in order to properly apologise?” Alexander said, looking down at the floor. 

 

“Why not, though the only day I’m free next week is Thursday, would that suit you?” Jefferson moved in to his office to flick through a diary. 

 

“Ah, yes, Thursday is fine, I’ll see you then.” 

 

He hurried from the room, back to his office and the safety of his debt plan. He had received an edited version from Jefferson that morning; though it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be, there was still a lot of work that had to be done on it. Then, there was the vote on the capital that evening; he would not be home till late. He also had little time to think on the fact that he would be spending a fair amount of time with Thomas Jefferson.

 

***

Thursday dawned, wet and windy, it seemed as though the summer was well and truly over in Philadelphia. They had been given the day to think over a very important matter, Alex had chosen to stay home to do so, mainly so he could prepare for that evening. When John finally emerged from his room, Alexander was downstairs in the kitchen, trying his best to cook a roast chicken for that night, even though it was only four in the afternoon. 

 

“What have you been doing?” Alexander asked, exasperated. 

 

“Writing, I’m trying to finish my essays against the slave trade by the end of the year,” John said, dipping his finger in the gravy Alex was trying to make. “Needs more salt.” 

 

“Yeah, I guess it does.” Alex tasted the gravy, “can you pass it, it’s over there by the counter.” 

 

“Life would be much easier if you just hired a cook, my friend, then you could have sat back and relaxed,” John sang.

 

“Yes, I realise that, thank you very much. Please make yourself useful and boil some water for the cabbage,” Alexander shooed John out his way. 

 

Alex barely had time to run upstairs and make himself look neat, before Jefferson arrived, James Madison in tow. He was tying his hair back in to its queue when they knocked on the door. John answered as he walked down the front stairs. 

 

“Gentlemen, welcome, come in please,” he said, taking their coats and hanging them up on a peg. 

 

“Thank you,” Jefferson smiled slightly, a mere twitch of the corners of his mouth. 

 

“Please, if you wouldn’t mind going to the sitting room, dinner is almost done,” Alex showed them the way.

 

“So, you both live here?” Jefferson asked, looking between Alex and John. 

 

“Ah, I’m staying here while General Washington finds me a job in the cabinet, yes. Alexander was kind enough to take me in, before I buy myself a place,” John shifted a little in his place, tugging at his cravat. 

 

“I see,” Jefferson looked around the room, “do you play?” He said, gesturing to the piano, eyes on Alex.

 

“I- yes, I do.”

  


“He’s a better singer, lovely tenor,” John interrupted, grinning at Alex. “Sings Monteverdi wonderfully.” 

 

“I didn't know you sang,” Jefferson raised his eyebrow, Alexander wondered if it every stayed in its rightful place more than two hours a day. 

 

“I don’t make a habit of it, my father disapproved of music,” Alexander said, remembering the hazy times before his father left, when he’d been caught singing; he still had the scars. 

 

“Really? I always thought music to be one of the greatest pleasures known to man. I play the violin myself, never much cared for the piano,” Jefferson stood and wandered over to it, “Mozart? They say, he’s even better than Haydn.”

 

“Aye, I suppose they’d be right, his Sonata’s are much more dynamic,” Alexander said, sitting down at the bench and beginning to play, thanking John silently in his head for teaching him this particular piece not a day before. 

 

As he played, he noticed how Jefferson sat down and closed his eyes, fingers mapping out the pattern of the notes on his thigh. He saw just how much the music relaxed everyone in the room, easing the tensions and calming the atmosphere. Alexander even started to enjoy himself, easing in to the ebb and flow of the music, the tensions faded as quickly as a storm at sea. He praised Mozart in his head for creating such wonderful pieces of music, so as to calm a room such as this. 

 

“I think supper is ready, if you would,” John said, standing and motioning for everyone to walk in to the dining room. “You owe me for teaching that to you,” he whispered to Alex. 

 

“Sure. Just let’s get through the next few hours,” Alex rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen to bring out dishes of food. 

 

***

 

Over the next few weeks and months, Alexander found himself seeking Jefferson’s company actively and not just because he had to.He found the other man to be clever and actually, though his opinions were all wrong, quite the good debating partner. Alexander had long ago given up debating with John, their opinions were too similar, debates held no fire when someone was arguing for a side they did not believe in. Although, Jefferson actually believed in some of his values and opinions; it was far more fun to break down exactly why Thomas was wrong. Alexander also found that they held a lot of the same opinions on music and literature, they both loved Haydn, Mozart and Candide by Voltaire was a favourite book of the two. They had lengthy discussions (arguments) on the philosophies of Hume, Locke, and Aquinas; those night were some that Alexander enjoyed most. 

 

“Don’t you understand? There must be a God and he _must_ be active in the universe,” Alexander said, pacing round Thomas’s living room.

 

“Yes, I do, I just find myself disagreeing with you. I agree there must be a God, but I think- Actually, read this,” Thomas said handing Alex a book, “I think you’ll find it most enlightening.” 

 

“Metaphysics? I read this when I was fifteen,” Alexander scoffed.

 

“Yes? Well read again,” Thomas’s drawled smiling, “then come back to me with your idea of an active God.”

  


So Alex did, he read the book, once and then read it again. Going back to Thomas's office the next day; he slammed the book on the table and pronounced himself a deist. 

  


"I told you you'd agree, Aristotle is far more intelligent than anyone alive today, in my opinion," Thomas said.

  


That was the first of many times they spent discussing philosophy, and through it all, Alexander found himself slowly but surely falling for Thomas. The other man was clever, funny, and talented; he was one of the only people Alex had found whose intelligence and thirst for knowledge rivalled his own. He wondered how they would be if John hadn't suggested Alex become his friend. Alexander forgot about the plan, he no longer wished to exploit or even know about Thomas's weaknesses. What was even more funny was that they both revealed they used their friends as security blankets. Thomas hid behind James (figuratively the man was much too small to hide behind literally) and Alexander hid behind John. Their two best friends became just as close as they were, bonding over being permanently exasperated with the exploits of their friends.  

 

***

 

John had received the position of Chief of Staff, though most of the time found him in Washington’s office, taking down notes the president wished him to. The two men had departed for the site on the Potomac where the new capital of the United States would be about two weeks before. Alexander found his house much too quiet without John’s constant noise, he realised this as he sat reading a letter John had sent him. 

_How goes the plan? Has Jefferson shown any weakness? Remember the goal is not to become actual friends, keep your eye on getting that scoundrel out of office._

 

John wrote, though Alexander was loathed to admit, he now looked at Thomas as just a sincere a friend than any. He was about to write to John and tell him so, when the door bell rang. He walked downstairs, leaving the letter on his desk, and opened the door to find Thomas standing on his stoop.

 

“I know that John left town with Washington, yesterday you mentioned your house lacked noise. I was wondering if you would object to working on that plan for the Stock Exchange, together. I am sure you will need my input to make it in anyway practical,” Thomas sniffed, though he smiled as he spoke.

 

“Why not, come on in, would like anything? Tea? I’m sure I’ve some wine around here,” Alexander said, inviting the other man inside. “You know the way to my office.” He pointed upstairs. 

 

“Tea would be wonderful, thanks. I’ll show myself up then,” Thomas nodded and walked upstairs. 

 

Alexander bustled around in the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to find his tea, before he heard a clatter and Thomas running downstairs. 

 

“I have to go, I just remembered, I’ve some important business to attend to,” Thomas said, leaving the house without showing Alexander his face. 

 

Alex froze, the letter, he’d left John’s letter on his desk and sent Thomas up to his study without thinking. Thomas must have read the letter and thought that Alex was still only pretending to be his friend. The tea pot dropped to the floor. He grabbed his coat and followed Thomas out the door, cursing himself for leaving the letter open. 

 

Thomas’s town house was across the city from where Alexander lived; Jefferson had had a good twenty minutes on him, he tried to find a cab, though it was impossible. Alex ended up walking which took him a good hour and a half.It was no surprise that Madison opened the door when Alexander got there. 

 

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Madison said. 

 

“Please tell him there was nothing to the letter,” Alex pleaded. 

 

“Do you know how hard it is for him to make friends? He doesn’t trust easily, ever since his Martha died, it has been almost impossible to get him to leave the house. I’ve not seen him as happy as he has been these past few months in the last _years._ I really thought you two were close, though I suppose that was all a game to you,” Madison said, in a hushed angry voice.

 

“I was going to tell John that the plan was no more. I found myself enjoying his company sincerely, please tell him there was nothing to the letter,” Alexander croaked, grabbing hold of Madison’s coat sleeve as the man turned to close the door in his face. 

 

“What gives you the right to toy with people like this? What makes you think you can do that? Do you really think yourself so damn superior?” Madison scoffed, looking down at Alexander, “I’ll tell him what you told me, but dot think that he will care.” 

 

“Thank you, James,” Alexander said, turning and walking down the steps. 

 

“Alexander, give him some space and time before you try apologising again.”

 

 

***

 

Alexander gave Thomas five days; for those five days he stayed away, they were lonely, even though John came home on the third day. John was mortified when he heard of what his letter had caused; he’d gone to see Thomas and they’d worked out their problems, now it was only Alexander who was left by the wayside. Even though John had explained to Thomas that the plan had been all his idea. 

 

On the fifth day, Alexander went Thomas’s office and knocked on the door. Thomas opened it, Alex took it as a good sign that it wasn’t slammed shut in his face. He stepped inside as Thomas went to his and sat down, not looking at Alex. 

 

“Please, hear me out,” Alex started, “I never meant for you read-“

 

“So, our friendship was just way for you to find out what my _weakness_ was? It was just a way for you to advance yourself?” Thomas interrupted Alex suddenly, his face went through a myriad of emotions, all of them made Alexander’s stomach drop uncomfortably. Thomas settled on cruel, cold, apathy; Alex felt that sting the most.

 

“In the beginning, yes, but then I knew you as a man; not as a political enemy. Then it changed and I no longer wished to hurt you,” Alexander pleaded with Thomas, begging him to see that he was truly sorry

 

Thomas shook his head, his lip curling up, his eyes watering. “Of all the things I thought you were, Alexander, cruel was not one of them. I guess I thought too highly of you,” Thomas scrubbed a hand over his eyes and turned his back on Alex. 

 

Before Hamilton could reach out and grab Thomas’ arm, the other man had left the room, leaving the door open behind him. Hamilton raced after his pulse quickening, his breath speeding up as his mind raced, there was only one thought in his head, _do not let Thomas leave._ He managed to catch up and pull Thomas in to an alcove. 

 

“Please, Thomas, I promise from the first week it was a sincere desire to be your friend that had me spending so much time with you. The plan I had with John faded from my mind after that,” Alex begged. “I know I had the wrong motivations, but since I spent time with you; I have learned so much and I am truly sorry.”

 

“Were you ever going to tell me that the first basis of our friendship was a lie? Because, since I found out of my own accord, I gather from that that you were not,” Thomas sniffed, turning up his nose. 

 

“I was trying to figure out the best way, so you did not have to find out the way you did,” Alexander faltered, “I am truly sorry, I was wrong to befriend you for the reasons I did, I was a fool and an idiot to think you would not find out, and I-“ Alex stopped, his pulse quickening further, his breaths coming faster, he choked slightly trying to find the best words. 

 

“You what?” Thomas stopped, his face lost all hint of anger and betrayal, curiosity took their place, “Alexander, are you quite alright?” 

 

“I… yes… I’m fine, I just wanted to say I am sorry.”

 

“You’ve said that so many times, I may start to believe it,” Thomas said, though it was not said coldly or cruelly.

 

“You may?” 

 

“I do,” Thomas nodded, though his face was still impassive and cold. 

 

“I love you,” Alexander blurted, his face reddened, “I mean, I love you in a completely platonic way. Like brothers. Like me and John; I mean I tell John I love him all the time. Why should it be any different with you? With your… your hair and your eyes and that damn smirk, why should I not tell you I love you? I mean I do… I- I- I’ll just go,” Alexander babbled, and he made to leave the alcove, and hopefully never face Thomas Jefferson again, but the other man grabbed his arm, his fingers curled around Alexander’s bicep. 

 

“You love me?” Thomas’s eyes widened and he stepped back slightly. 

 

“As a friend-“ Alexander began, though he looked up at Thomas’s face, and saw what he thought was a glimmer of hope in his friend’s eyes. “I mean, I don’t… er… yes. Yes, I think I do.”

 

“Is that as a friend?” Thomas asked, smiling, though it was not a smirk, not this time.

 

“No… no, I don’t think so,” Alexander mumbled.

 

“Good.”

 

“Good? Why good? Why is that good?” Alex stammered.

 

“Because if you loved me as a friend, it would be terribly awkward if I were to do this,” Thomas said, and, cupping Alex’s cheek, he promptly kissed him. 

 

Alexander sucked in a breath, opening his mouth in surprise; Thomas took full advantage and slipped his tongue in. Their noses brushed together and Alex couldn't help fluttering his eyes shut as he leant into the kiss. His hands found their way to tangle in Thomas’s hair, he wound his fingers around the curls revelling in their softness. Thomas’s lips were softer than he thought they would be, he’d only ever kissed three people on the lips in his life and Thomas’s lips were the softest. He felt Thomas’s warm hand on his cheek, the other came to rest on his waist, drawing them closer; so much so that he felt Thomas’s body heat seeping through his clothes. Alex sighed and let himself sink further in the heaven that was this kiss. 

 

“Kissing in the hallways like teenagers, we’re politicians; not college students. Couldn't hold off a few months longer, I now owe Laurens five dollars.”

 

Thomas and Alex jumped apart, blushes creeping up on their necks, past cravats and neck ties. The only other thing they could see in the hallway was the retreating back of James Madison. Who was walking as fast as he could in the opposite direction. 

 

“I think, we have put our esteemed friend through enough, do you not agree, my Alexander? Perhaps we should take this, elsewhere.” Thomas said, his hand drifted from Alex’s waist to slightly lower, before he removed it; winked and strutted off in the direction of Alex’s office. 

 

“Suave son of a…” Alex started before realising he’d much rather continue where they left off sooner rather than later. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment, kudos or whatever to see more from me. I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is only my second Jamilton work so let me know how I did, concrit is so so welcome :D :D Thanks again!!


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